FINALLY DONE!

Ahhhh I've been sooo busy! But here we are, the final chapter. Read and enjoy!

"Right this way folks, right this way, step riiight up to see the mysteries of the other side!" Grunkle Stan read off his schpiel with his usual charm, followed by hasty "No refunds!" as the gullible tourists stuffed money into the question marked burlap bag before wandering through the hokey museum. Dipper heard the sounds of business as usual over the frantic questions of his mother on the other end of the phone.

"Are you sure you're both alright? I mean, I can get you bus tickets and get you home, no problem honey, or send your father up-"

"Mom, really, we're okay. I'm doing a lot better."

"And Mabel?"

"Mabel's fine." Outside, Mabel chased Waddles, screaming "He said 'BATH TUB!' Did you hear that?!"

Dipper's mother paused. Dipper knew she was fiddling with her necklace, which she always did when she was thinking or worried.

"I just...I can't believe Stan didn't call us right away...it's so irresponsible. He should have notified us the moment you weren't feeling well."

"It was nothing, Mom. Just a little bug. Stan handled it fine." Dipper swallowed. "He would have called if it had gotten really bad." Dipper swallowed again. It felt wrong to lie to his mom. Still, she was quiet on the other end of the phone, the clink of her necklace as it bumped the reciever.

"...I suppose so," she finally conceded. "But you call me right away if anything else happens to you or your sister, got it?"

"Yep. Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

Dipper hung up the old plastic phone on its hook, letting the cord bounce back tightly. Dipper had been home from the clinic for three days, and recovery was slow, but steady. Dipper always called home once a week or so just to say hi, and knew he had to make the call so his parents wouldn't worry. Dipper had hoped to keep it casual, but as soon as his mom heard his ragged voice she instantly questioned her children's well-being and health. She'd pried, but Dipper gave a convincing half story. Stan, it seemed was rubbing off on him. Dipper pulled the oversized sweatshirt around him tighter, worn over his pajamas, and shuffled to the front porch.

High summer had returned to the Mystery Shack with heat and tourists covered in sticky half-melted ice cream, and inpossibly blue skies. Mabel ran around the Shack, full of energy, giggling excitedly and breathing in the fresh air. After everything that had happened, Mabel felt like the real Mystery Shack, the real world was so vibrant and alive that she didn't want to miss a minute. She twirled with her face to the sky like a budding flower. As she spun, she caught sight of Dipper out of the corner of her eye. He sat on the porch seat, curled up in the shade, squinting at the bright light. She dashed over.

"You okay?" she asked. Dipper had his knees folded up to his chin, and he wrapped his hands around his shins. "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

"Ugh, no. If I spend another minute in bed I might puke."

"You did puke. Yesterday. Which is why you should still be there." Mabel reached out to check Dipper's forehead, but he swatted her hand away. He resented still needing so much care.

"I already checked. Normal," he said. His fever was gone, and normal colour had somewhat returned to his pale face over the last few days, although he was still exhausted. "I talked to Mom."

Mabel twisted her shoe in the dirt at the base of the porch, going to bite her lip but releasing it, the fading bruise under the split aching as it pressed against her braces. "...you didn't...tell her, did you?"

Dipper looked sarcastic and irritated. "Yes, Mabel, I told mom that I was half-posessed by shadows and spirits from an old book I found buried in the woods, making me violently ill, and then in the course of saving me, you and I were both subjected mental torture that nearly killed me and almost made you lose your mind. You know. And that you say hi."

Mabel shrugged, feeling rebuked and irritated herself. Dipper didn't need to have such an attitude about it... "Sor-ry," she said, a tone hinting on the edge of her voice.

"Forget it," Dipper sighed. He caught Mabel's downcast face, and gave her a tired smile. "Sorry, Mabel...I just want to feel normal again." He watched a pile of children and their overwrought parents tumble out of a minivan laden with cameras. Grunkle Stan reappeared from within the depths of the Shack so quickly, it was like he materialized out of thin air. Mabel watched her brother give Grunkle Stan a grim expression.

"I told Mom we'd been sick with a stomach bug...that was the best I could think of, really. Didn't tell her anything else. She could tell I'm still off. She offered to get me home."

Mabel was silent. She sat on the porch at her brother's feet, and the two of them watched Grunkle Stan running around, pandering expertly to the gullible masses. When she spoke, it was barely more than a whisper, both of them stone-faced.

"You're not going, are you?"

Dipper's voice was gravelly. "No. A part of me wanted to..."

Mabel whipped around and looked up at her brother, surprised. She saw his hazel eyes, just like hers, dark and flecked with green and gold, follow their great uncle with a strange mix of determination, admiration, and something strange, like a bitterness Mabel couldn't quite taste. She felt a lump in her throat.

"...but I can't leave. I have to know what's going on here. I'm gonna figure this out. It's bigger than me, or Stan. And besides," Dipper glanced down at his sister and gave her petrified face that special smile, the one that was true and comforting, "I can't leave you here by yourself." The smile lasted a few more seconds before turning into a contorted wince of pain. He'd exhausted himself.

"Dipper," Mabel said tenderly. She stood and helped Dipper stand. He tried to hold himself upright at first, but soon was leaning on Mabel heavily, until Mabel had to loop his arm around her neck. The two traipsed inside followed by Waddles.

"This is so lame," Dipper grumbled.

"It's okay," Mabel said. She guided her brother away from the busy noon crowds beginning to swell inside the Shack, and set him up in the living room to rest. Stan had moved the TV upstairs for the twins to watch while they recuperated, and now that Mabel was well and Dipper anxious to escape the bedroom as often as he was able, he had hauled it back downstairs, with minimal complaining. Mabel flipped the old tube on. Ducktective was on, and Dipper managed to eat most of a tuna sandwich Mabel made for him. He shivered beneath his massive sweater, although he had no fever, and Mabel placed a fuzzy blanket she was knitting over his lap, working on the end at his feet as the two watched TV.

They passed the afternoon away peacefully. Dipper had a mild headache and dozed off, and Mabel listened as the tourists packed up in their cars and left. The sun arched from a bright afternoon into a warm evening that promised a clear night. Wendy and Soos poked their heads in, quietly bidding Mabel and the sleeping Dipper goodbye. Grunkle Stan chuckled to himself at the till, before clearing his throat and wandering into the living room.

"Hey," he said, before catching himself and lowering his voice at the sight of the resting boy. "Sorry...how're things?"

"Good," said Mabel, gesturing to the final stitches she was working through on the blanket. It was thick cream-coloured wool, but Mabel had added a smaller thread of gold throughout that just barely caught the light. It looked warm, but not too heavy or bulky, and it followed the form of Dipper's curled body softly. Grunkle Stan looked at it mildly, not able to configure the words in his head that he thought it was amazing that she could make something so beautiful. Finally he cleared his throat.

"I, uh...think we should talk..."

Mabel's knitting needles slowed their clacking, and she lowered her hands. Grunkle Stan nodded towards Dipper, and Mabel leaned over and shook his shoulder gently. Dipper blinked a few times, and looked up at his great uncle and sister.

"'sgoinon?" he asked blearily. Mabel looked to Stan for a response. The old man rubbed his neck.

"How ya feelin', kids?" he asked, with the twins looking up at him with blinking eyes. Mabel smiled slightly. She felt fine, if not a little guilty. Guilty she was healthy, and guilty that if, truth be told, she had done everything in her power to avoid thinking about the horrors she had experienced. Their remants came for her when she lay in her bed, staring at the moon-dappled beams above her and trying not to wake Dipper with her tiny, quivering sobs. Mabel shook her head.

"I'm great, Grunkle Stan," she said, turning to Dipper. Her brother, still gaunt, gave a shrug.

"'mokay, I guess. Tired."

Grunkle Stan rumaged in his jacket's inner pocket.

"Look, kids, I think...I think it's time you should have this back." Grunkle Stan produced the journal, and Mabel felt Dipper stiffen all over. The hairs on her neck stood up.

"Grunkle Stan..." she said, voice quaking softly, on the edge of a warning.

"Strange things happen and you need to protect yourselves. The Forces that had this book can't hurt you now, at least not through it."

Dipper stared at the book being offered to him, with shining, white rimmed eyes. Relief and fear mixed together in a sickening churn, but he swallowed the urge to vomit. He held out a shaky hand, which flinched before his fingers brushed the edge of the worn leather binding. The book passed from uncle to nephew, and Dipper felt the familiar, almost comforting weight of the tattered old chronicle, while tension strung in the air while Mabel and even Stan held their breaths. Dipper's face was, for a moment, unreadable, but the tension finally broke and the atmosphere seemed less pressurized. Nothing happened to Dipper, and everyone breathed.

"Thank you," said Dipper, so quietly that Mabel couldn't determine the tone.

"Uh...you're welcome," said Stan, somewhat nervously. He rubbed his neck again, the telltale symbol for awkward family interactions making him uncomfortable. But Mabel glanced up and saw, at the edge of Grunkle Stan's side cast eyes, a crinkle of skin and a tiny sliver of light reflecting off moisture. "Listen, kids...I...I never meant for any of this to happen...and I never wanted either of you to get hurt...I just...I guess I mean to say...I'm...sorr-"

Grunkle Stan's words evaporated on his lips as he felt arms tighten around his waist. He looked down to see Mabel, he face buried in the front of his dusty black suit-jacket, her arms wrapped around him so tightly he thought he might burst. Stan blinked, quickly brushed the rapidly accumulating tears from his eyes.

"Grunkle Stan, we love you," came Mabel's muffled voice. She pulled her head back to gaze up at the bewildered old curmudgeon. Her face was serious.

"This wasn't your fault. You were so brave for both of us. It's okay."

Stan could only blink. He looked to Dipper, who glanced back, giving a nod of agreement, although his face was unreadable. Grunkle Stan opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to articulate the cascade of emotions. He eventually settled on putting his arms on Mabel's shoulder and patting her a few times before extrapolating himself from her grip. He gave a sheepish smile, and cleared his throat.

"I-um...okay, I...well. Good. Yeah. So. Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight Grunkle Stan!"

"Goodnight!"

The old man left the room and the twins listened to him clamber the rickety stairs. Mabel turned to Dipper, who had tucked the journal into his large sweater, but seemed normal. He raised an eyebrow at his sister. Mabel crossed her arms.

"You should've hugged him, too," she insisted, although she wasn't even sure herself if she was joking.

"I dunno, Mabe," Dipper grumbled, "I'm glad he gave the book back, but...it's just...everything's kinda weird now."

Mabel considered this for a moment, but closed her eyes and nodded decisively. "I trust him."

"Mm," Dipper uttered, his voice stony. Mabel watched a faint flash of bitterness wash over her brother's face. Mabel checked her watch. She grabbed the end of her blanket and rapidly finished the last few stitches. She pulled the needles out from the fabric and wove in the ends, her skilled hands making short work of the task. Within a minute, she was done. She pulled the pile of wool off her brother, and grabbed his hand.

"Come with me," she said.

Dipper blinked, but stood and followed obediantly. Mabel led him up the stairs, but turned rather than continuing to the attic.

"Where're we going" Dipper pushed, trying to disguise his slightly laboured breathing. Mabel pressed on, and pushed open the door to the roof's overlook. Dipper shrank back at the rush of cool air, but Mabel hauled him outside.

The sun was tracing its way down the darkening sky to settle in between the two distant peaks and cast its evening shadows on the pine-filled valley. The sky was turning inky, and a few errant stars were making their appearance for the night. Mabel sat Dipper down and curled up next to him, and with a flourish, wrapped the soft, creamy blanket around them both. It was the perfect thickness to keep them warm, while they still took in the fresh, crisp air in generous breaths. The last rays of light danced along the trees before night finally took hold. Mabel and Dipper lost track of how long they had been sitting there, but it was long enough for the stars overhead to come out in full force and amaze the twins with their multitude and brilliance.

Mabel was just dozing off, her head brushing her brother's shoulder, when he spoke so softly, she wasn't even sure she heard him.

"Mabel?"

Mabel looked up, to see Dipper staring at the sky, the Big Dipper echoing the mark under his tousled bangs. Dipper was lucky, Mabel thought, to have the whole night sky as a mirror.

"I just..."

"Dipper?"

"I-look...everything that happened..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Mabel said, louder than she meant to.

"I know. But-"

"Dipper, please."

"I just-"

"Dipper!"

"Don't let it happen to me again!"

Mabel stared. Dipper faced her, and his face was dry, blown by the cool night breeze, but wracked with worry.

"I know you don't want to talk about it...I don't either...but...but we have the journal back, and we're gonna stick it out. But I'm scared. I'm scared something bad is gonna happen to me. Or worse...to you...I can't do this alone Mabel." Panic suddenly flared in Dipper's face and voice. "I can't! Mabel, Mabel don't leave me okay?!"

Dipper buried his face into Mabel's neck. Mabel was lost for words for a moment, but soon patted the back of her brother's head comfortingly. The poor boy was still exhausted and recovering, it was no wonder his emotions were all over the map.

"Dipper, I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. We're gonna solve this mystery together. You, me, Stan...all of us. And I will never let anything bad happen to you ever again."

Dipper was silent, but had stopped quaking. He looked up, and met his twin's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mabel. About everything."

"Don't be. It's gonna be alright. Trust me."

Mabel felt Dipper relax, and she pulled the blanket around them tighter, and they leant back on the slanted roof together and stared at the radiant night sky until their eyelids grew heavy. The fresh air was crisp but neither twin was cold. They were perfect, together, as twins. The purest bond. The last thing Mabel heard, as she finally drifted off, Dipper in her arms, was the voice of the other half of herself, who lay with his head resting on her chest.

"I trust you."